The One I Killed
by Miss JP
Summary: Duo Maxwell, former drug addict, feels responsible for the death of his soul mate, Heero Yuy, and contemplates on this. But sometimes, contemplation just doesn't help.


Disclaimer: Don't own the characters and such… standard disclaimer without the humorous notes.

A/N: Please try and understand where all of this is coming from – I don't hate any of the characters. This is only my interpretation of what would happen if the circumstances were as such. I'm sorry if I offend anyone, but it was not my intention.

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The One I Killed

Miss JP

***

I took a long drag on my cigarette, luxuriating in the thick French smoke billowing from my open mouth. It was rare that I would choose to smoke when the sun hasn't even begun to sink. But I had far too much on my mind, and I needed escape. And in my opinion, sucking smoke into my lungs was my only chance to escape, excluding the use of drugs. But I've tried that. _And look at what happened when I did…_

Huh. Three years out of rehab and my mental state was no better. It probably hurt me more than helping me, in fact. Two _fucking_ years in rehab, and now look at what happened. Quatre was right – I am a selfish bastard, no help to the world and to my acquaintances. I took another drag and felt the smoke wafting from my nose. My mouth felt dry.

Why had he died? He was only twenty-one, for fuck's sake. He wasn't fucking supposed to die. He was the one with the physical strength and all that shit. And still he fucking laid down the cross and fell asleep. Forever. And it was my fucking fault. If only it wasn't my fault. Maybe I'd feel slightly better – at least I wouldn't be so firmly drenched in disgust and self-loathing. Smoke hit me, and my mind sank further into recesses of my memories.

_"I hate this place, Heero. I hate this place!"_

_"Duo, I know you do, and I understand. But please try to bear with it – it'll do you good. Just hold on. I love you and I know you're strong, and I know –"_

_"DON'T FUCKING TELL ME WHAT YOU KNOW! YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!"_

_Blue eyes._

_"I wouldn't understand, maybe," Heero's voice was soft. "But Duo… I'll always be there for you."_

_"No, you won't. No you fucking won't."_

_"I will, Duo. I will."_

God, I hated myself. If only I could trust him, and continue to hold on. If only I could try my best and understand his wishes – but no! I had to push him away, drive him to the point of insanity, and lock him into uncertainty. His voice was singed with regret whenever he spoke after the first year. Then he spoke no more. And I wandered, bitter and disgusted, further away from my former life. My life with Heero.

And I couldn't stop. I couldn't stop doing it: rushing to the bathroom to inhale another wrap of cocaine, slipping the odd pill into my drink, downing bottles and bottles of Scotch when I thought no one was looking. I couldn't stop myself and I couldn't stop Heero from dying. I couldn't stop anything.

***

_I paced the sterile white room quickly, my breathing becoming quicker. I needed something. Something to keep me stable, sane… oh, God, I needed another wrap. My mind was fast going out of control and I couldn't help myself. I reached into my duffel and pulled one out._

_"Duo."_

_I glared accusatorily at the frail blond standing in front of me. "What are you going to do about it?" It was meant to be a whisper, but it come out as a near-shriek, my voice raised and piercing._

_Quatre shook his head. "Duo…" he repeated softly. "Heero wouldn't want that."_

_"Don't tell me what Heero would want. Don't tell me, okay? Don't you FUCKING tell me what Heero would want! Heero would want my happiness! Heero would care about me! Heero would fucking let me do anything I want so long as I was happy!" My voice was rising, rising: up another octave, up another volume level. I was unstoppable._

_His normally placid eyes flashed dangerously. "You think this is happy?" he asked, his voice a low tremor. "You fucking think this is happy?" I opened my mouth, but he went on. "You think your entire sad existence is a happy one? You're happy sniffing coke and getting yourself drunk till the sky falls? Duo, I don't think you are. Heero knows what happiness is – he knows now, after he found you. But you're ruining it for him, Duo. You're throwing the happiness of being together with Heero away for a wrap of coke and a bottle of Scotch. Pull yourself together! Heero's in there, he's got a chance of dying, and all you can fucking think about is how to get the next wrap of coke into your breathing system without me noticing too much!" His breathing became haggard and he turned around to compose himself._

_"Yes," I replied angrily. He turned back at me and waited. He didn't have to wait long. "Yes. YES, I'm happy! YES, this existence is happy! You know I care about Heero! Why would I be here if I didn't care about Heero? You've some nerve to imply that I don't care about Heero Yuy, especially after Trowa's little leg incident," my tone was harsh, raging – a column of verbal smoke erupting from my lips. My eyes narrowed and my voice became a low hiss. "Were you caring for Trowa when you still went on to your little press meeting? Did you care that he was almost crying, tears falling from those fucking adorable eyes?"_

_Quatre had the grace to look down in shame. "I know I left him there, Duo. But I did the best I could, and Trowa wanted me to continue on. He told me himself. And I won't ever disrespect his wishes. If he was dishonest in wanting me to continue, I would've felt it. And –"_

_"Well, I'm respecting Heero's wishes," I shot back hotly. "He wants me to be happy, and if this harmless little wrap of coke's gonna make me happy, he's gonna allow it. He's gonna fucking give his blessings."_

_"No," he answered back, pissed off. "No, he won't, Duo. It's hurting him – can't you see? He doesn't want you to destroy yourself anymore. He doesn't want to see you wither and dry from mind-altering chemicals! He wants you to live, healthily, and to be happy. You're just ruining it all for him – and for yourself. Take the blindfolds off, Duo! Happiness isn't coke!"_

_Yes, it is, I thought, but I desperately needed coke, and quickly. My mind was becoming a blur and the desperation just continued growing stronger. I ignored Quatre's annoyed cerulean eyes and rummaged through my duffel for my wrap._

_I'd found it._

_But as it went on its way towards me, I felt Quatre's hand slap away the white powder from my nose. The dust of pure white flew over the waiting room and settled itself amongst its surroundings. Specks of powder were left untouched on glossy magazine covers and fuzzy couch cushions. My mind was in shock for two seconds. Then I woke up._

_"What the fuck," It wasn't a question. My voice was trembling, furious, my eyes becoming wilder as I spoke. "What. The. Fuck."_

_Quatre stood rigidly and straightened his blazer lapels. His eyes were no longer filled with rage – they were cold. Chillingly so. "Fuck the coke, Duo, and maybe Heero will live."_

_I couldn't remember what I did next, exactly, but I remember the furious blows I gave him and the angry speech I hissed out of my clenched teeth. "My last wrap of coke," A punch. "My fucking LAST wrap. Taken away by a WIMP of a Gundam pilot," Another punch. "The worst FUCKING," A kick. "Gundam pilot out of ALL of us. Fucking pacifist. Fucking bastard. Fuck you," Slam, slap, slam, slap. "FUCK YOU!" I threw him across the room, sweating, and watched as he struggled to get up. I felt like hurling and my mind swam._

_He coughed, blood streaming out of his nose and down his mouth. He wheezed several times, holding himself tightly around the stomach and could hardly open his eyes. He didn't talk for three minutes, regaining his breath and his voice. Tears fell from his closed eyes._

_"Fuck the coke, Duo," his voice was raspy and he breathed forcibly. "And Heero might live."_

_All I could remember from there was the pale-faced doctor standing in front of the waiting room, his test results slipping from his hands. Even from across the room, the words on the sheet shouted clearly in my mind._

_He's dead._

_And I killed him._

***

I felt a single tear fall from my face, skimming my cheek, as I recounted the memory. The cigarette was forgotten, rotting beside me on the damp pavement, wispy tendrils of smoke curling into the air. I felt my shoulders slump and my eyes blur. My head hung from its pivotal point. I killed my soul mate, the only person who trusted me and understood me for who I was. And I killed him.

***

_"Well, Misters Maxwell and… Raberba, is it?" A nod. "I don't really like to be the bearer of bad news, but we have no idea what's wrong with him. His hair is turning prematurely white and his face has become gaunt, despite the nourishment we've been giving him. We've consulted experts and all they can guess his that his mind grew too old for his body. After about five years of living as an old man in a young adult's body, his body deficiency decreased and his condition just continued to deteriorate. We think it's finally caught up to him."_

_Quatre looked immensely concerned and was leaning forward, clutching the doctor's mahogany desk until his knuckles turned white. "Oh no…"_

_"His blood pressure is off the roof constantly," the doctor continued. "At the moment we can only see two things happening – his will and his mind working the kinks out himself, or us putting him…" He took a deep breath. "To sleep."_

_Quatre's face turned as white as his knuckles._

_"Mister Maxwell," the doctor turned to me. "I suggest you visit him and talk to him a little. When he is conscious, he is constantly muttering your name. Perhaps your presence would calm him and he would acquire better chances to making it through this difficult time."_

_I'd already fled to the bathroom to inhale another wrap._

***

At the time, I couldn't understand what I did wrong. All I could see was Heero slipping away from me, becoming more distant and closed. I could only see him in the wrong – he didn't take me out of the hellhole that was rehab and he could never soothe my coke-induced pains. All I could ask was what was wrong with him – why wasn't he keeping up with his old standards? Where was always helpful, newly friendly Heero? _And why was he being such a bastard_?

"Duo?"

I turned and saw Trowa, several feet away, unbalanced on his gleaming artificial leg. He was looking at me closely, eyes piercing through my skin and into my soul.

"Hey," my voice was wheezy, like an old man's.

There was a brief moment of silence, and then I heard Trowa stepping noisily towards me. He was never one to talk much – he let his hand rest on my shoulder and stood quietly. The only sound I heard then was the pattering of fresh rain upon the poured concrete sidewalk.

We stood there for twenty minutes as the rain became heavier and the temperature decreased. The rain blurred my vision ultimately, and through the liquid I thought I could see Heero, smiling, and waving at me to come towards him. My breath caught in my throat and my breathing quickened, but I stood silently and watched my imagination's work, begging myself to believe that he really was still alive, smiling at me to come towards him. All I wanted was to see him again, and I was afraid that moving would make him disappear. But I felt Trowa lightly touch my arm and Heero flew away.

"Through death comes a new beginning," Trowa said softly to me. "And with a new beginning comes peace."

The rain continued to patter loudly, but I could no longer see the faint outline of my Heero.

You know, the one that I killed.

---

Wow. I think I nearly cried when I wrote that last bit – I know, I know: you think it's a piece of crap. But I did what I could and I think I enjoyed writing this. It was an idea I had a while back, although my original idea was a continued storyline based on Heero's 'body catching up to his brain'. But I realized that I can never change my style in writing – I'll never be good at continued storylines. So here's a short one-shot. I hope you enjoyed it, sappy and strange as it was.

To all my reviewers from 'An Interest in Normandy': I apologize but I think I might have to delete it. I really don't consider it quality work and I'm almost ashamed to look at it. I still, of course, appreciate your comments and support greatly and I hope you'll continue to do so in the future. But at the moment, I am really very sorry if you truly enjoyed it.

Thank you for reading my fic, and all comments are accepted and cherished.


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